


The Soiree

by Witcherywriting



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:41:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25035616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Witcherywriting/pseuds/Witcherywriting
Summary: One shot of a fem!mage!TrevelyanxCullen. Written during a point of anxiety. Sorsha attends a party, much to her own discomfort.
Relationships: Cullen Rutherford/Female Trevelyan
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	The Soiree

“Josephine, do I really have wear this thing?”

“Stop whining, Sorsha. You look lovely. Cullen will agree when he sees you.”

“Ugh…”

“If you’re trying to sound like Cassandra, you need to work a little harder on sounding disgusted.”

Sorsha glared at the Antivan, and smoothed her hand down the bodice of the elaborate green and gold Orlesian gown Josephine was insisting she wear. “I look ridiculous.”

“You look like a lady. Now sit, and let me fix your hair. Although with this hairstyle of yours, I have no idea how to make it look proper for this event.”

“I usually just finger comb it out of my face —- Ow! Josie! Careful with that brush!”

“If you brushed it properly, this wouldn’t hurt, Sorsha. Now sit still. I can work with this.”

Sorsha did as bid, as best she could. She kept twiddling her thumbs and rearranging her skirts. She closed her eyes and held her breath, just waiting for the fussing to stop. “Maker, are you done with my hair yet?” she asked after almost half an hour of twitching and holding her breath in cycles.

“One more pin… and there! Now to add a little colour to your face.”

“Make-up? Really?”

“Sit still. This won’t take nearly as long. You have green and gold flecks in your eyes that I want to sparkle.” Sorsha sighed, and then closed her eyes again while Josephine brushed the shadow, liner and mascara on. She felt light tappings on her cheeks, then a gentle swipe on her lips. “And done. Would you like a mirror?”

“I’m terrified of what you’ve done to me, Josie.”

“You look positively radiant, Sorsha. Look for yourself.” Josephine handed Sorsha a mirror, and the mage looked into it.

“I… don’t look like me.” Josephine had plaited her hair close to the scalp, and back out of her face on the partially shaved side side, and pulled back tightly into an elaborate updo with braids weaving through it. The make-up made her eyes and skin glow, and her lips were the most kissable shade of red. Paired with the intensity of the gown, she did not recognize herself in the mirror.

“You look amazing, my dear, and Cullen’s a fool if he thinks otherwise.” Dorian walked loftily into her chambers. “You’re just missing… ah!” He pulled one of the flowers off his dual flowered boutonniere and slid it into her hair. “Her mask, Josephine?” She handed him the mask and grinned as he fitted it to Sorsha’s face. “There. Shall we?” He offered his arm to her.

“Do I have a choice?”

“No.”

“Then let’s get this over with.”

The three of them walked into the main hall of Skyhold, a lady on either side of Dorian, which had been cleared for this very event. Josephine’s planning, all because of the dance Sorsha had at the Winter Palace with the Duchess. Everyone wanted to see her dance again. Empress Celene had been invited, but she had cordially declined. Everyone else was there, even the Dowager, who was regaling some uninterested man stories of her past husbands and their subsequent deaths.

“I am convinced that at least one of her husbands killed himself just to escape her droll tone,” Sorsha muttered into Dorian’s ear. He snickered. Josephine excused herself to look for her siblings and parents. “Please don’t leave my side, Dorian. This dress ways a tonne and I don’t know if I can stand by myself. Don’t want to embarrass the Inquisition by crumbling into a heap of silks.”

“Sorsha, my dear, you look absolutely radiant.” Vivienne was sashaying towards them. “Really, you do. Has the Commander seen you yet?”

“We just got down here, haven’t even spoken to anyone, Madame de Fer. If Cullen is smart, he’ll stay holed up in his loft until this is done. He hates events like these more than I do.”

“Well, for someone who hates it, you play the Game remarkably well.”

“I lived in the Circle my whole life. That’s a different form of the Game, played with demons and templars alike, as you well know.”

“That is why you’ll succeed.” Vivienne walked away and Sorsha groaned. Dorian slipped his arm behind her back.

“Let’s mingle, Inquisitor. Your people are waiting.” He pushed her forward into the crowd and they made small talk with random people. Sorsha kept getting compliments on her hair and gown, and every single one made her skin crawl just a little bit more. She hadn’t seen Cullen yet, and was growing more anxious by the minute. Dorian was a natural at engaging the people around them, and she felt somewhat at ease beside him, but she admitted, to herself at least, she’d rather fight the Nightmare demon again than wear this dress and be here ‘mingling’ with people she couldn’t care less about. There were so many questions about the war, about Corypheus and what he wanted to do. She lost count of people who wanted her to recount her story of Haven’s destruction, something she’d prefer to not remember. She still felt cold at times, remembering how freezing it had been trudging through the blizzard, just seeing the orange glow of fires in the distance, and trying to make it before she froze to death. It was sheer luck that she had found them. She also knew that the cold wasn’t fully from the blizzard, but the fear of being forgotten, left alone out in the middle of no where, with no one looking for her, no one caring. That was why she listened to Solas when he told her to guide them to this place. She had only started to lose that ice, and there was one man to thank for that. The one who had spoken to her quietly, lamenting how he almost lost her.

“Sorsha, you’ve drifted off into another world,” Dorian reprimanded. “Your guests want you to finish your story.” She stared at the people around her blankly for a moment before remembering what was going on.

“Oh! I am so sorry. I, ah… hmm…” She paused, then met the eyes of the noble she had been speaking to. “You don’t really want to know that story, do you? It’s so terribly droll and depressing from my point of view.” She flashed a bright smile at the noble. “Ask Varric for stories, he’s excellent at drawing you in and leaving you hanging. Excuse me.” She disengaged from the conversation and, picking up her skirts, weaved her way through the crowd, needing air. The corset on the gown was suffocating her in the closeness of the hall. She walked through Solas’s study, ignoring the bald elf who looked up sharply when she entered. “I just… I need some air,” she muttered in his direction. The elf just nodded and went back to what he was doing. She walked onto the walkway towards Cullen’s tower, and just leaned over the side of it, gasping. “Who’s bloody idea was this stupid dress?” she muttered to herself, pulling off her mask, and grasping at the pins in her hair, picking them out one at a time, setting them into the discarded mask. Her hair fell down her neck and she felt slightly better.

“Sorsha?” a familiar and very welcome voice called. She looked towards his tower, and a small smile finally graced her face. “What are you doing out here? Your guests…?”

“Will survive without me, Cullen.” She instantly grew even more aware of the gown she wore, and fidgeted at her skirt, looking down, away from him as he approached her.

“I dare say they will, but this is your party.” He cupped her face and made her look at him, his brown eyes watching her carefully, filled with concern. “Are you okay?”

“I’m uncomfortable. I’d rather fight the Nightmare demon again than wear this stupid dress.”

Cullen stepped back and surveyed her. Her hair was a mess of braids and loose curls, her eyes were sparkling in the moonlight, her lips looked deliciously kissable, but he held back for a moment to look at her main source of discomfort. The gown was distastefully Orlesian to him, but it’s fit was actually very becoming on her figure. It was a dark green and gold and drew attention back to her eyes. It also drew attention to some of her other physical qualities, ones that he was rather fond of, not that he would ever say it around others. “You look beautiful, Sorsha,” he murmured, taking her hand and drawing it to his lips. “It’s a change, to be sure from your usual, but it’s not all bad.”

“I…” Her voice faltered.

“Just a few more hours, then I’ll help you remove it,” he whispered in her ear, wrapping an arm around her, pulling her close to him. A giggle burst through her.

“You’ll have to give me a dance then, Cullen.”

“As you wish.” He kissed her, firmly, a promise.


End file.
